This weekend and next we’re hosting a Garage, Garden and Studio Show in our home in Dana Point. We’ll be wearing our masks, of course, but the big garage door open with plenty of air flow, there’s an outdoor feeling to it all. That was out experience last month when we did the same in the garage featuring my work. This time it’s Anne’s.

It hardly looks like a garage, here looking in from the driveway.

Backing up, between the July show and this one I decided it was time to do something about the garage floor. With a minimum of research I went at it, first clearing the space, then degreasing areas, and then beginning to apply paint, artists acrylic, splattered around and spread with palette knife.

It was lots of work, here about day three of five, most of it on the knees. It was like a giant canvas; when the design started getting away from me I’d have to balance things out in another area.

In the end it came out like this, a giant abstract, something like what Jackson Pollock would have done. This one, however, will never be on the wall in a museum, being on a thick cement slab.

It’s a garage floor, and we really do use our garage for cars. With three coats of glossy finish over the top, there’s a confidence it’s there to stay. If not, I suppose I know how to repair it.

Back to the show. This is how it’s shaping up. Note one of Anne’s presses will be on display (left). People ask about that rug, recognizing that it looks like one of Anne’s pieces. I bought it at Lowes a couple of years ago. My sense is the designer came across Anne’s work somewhere and adapted it. It could easily happen what with hundreds of people having Anne Moore pages on Pinterest. She’s quite esteemed in her field.

Some final adjustments by the artist herself.

Check the short walk-through below.

Here’s the announcement, with the details. Note there will be three of us showing. Antje Campbell, a friend of ours, makes beautiful three-dimensional works, which will compliment Anne’s prints and my paintings.

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It’s our way of keeping art alive, and with that, beauty, and friendship, while things are otherwise dampered down. We’re hosting a show in the big-door-opened garage, as well as in the yard behind. I call it a yard, but in reality it’s our paradise . . . the definition of that word being, “walled garden.” We’re grateful for it, and happy to invite you into it, this time with the addition of artwork to discover.

This is not a typical art show for us, and it is certainly not a garage sale either. Rather, think Persian rugs stores, with beautiful hand made carpets arrayed in piles, discounted deeply, and forever going out of business. This is something like that, except we’re not going out of business.

For the event, everything will be discounted 50 percent from website prices. This also goes for anyone who cannot come to the show but would like to shop online. That’s for all of my original artwork as found in the Hyatt Moore Gallery here.

If you find something that interests, simply e-mail me at moore@hyattmoore.com and we’ll have a conversation.

Here are some photos of how the garage is shaping up for Sunday, as well as a few of the yard, taken last month.

I should have turned the lights on in the garage for this “approaching dusk” photo, but it gives an idea of the openness of the entrance and space.

Things could change but expect it to look something like this on Sunday afternoon.

Those large canvases stacked against each other are placed for guests to move around and look behind, just to find what might be discovered. More will be shown like that on the patio back in the garden.

The open side door leads to the garden, and provides plenty of fresh air flow through the space.

Work on paper will be part of the offering, as well as paintings on canvas, stretched and unstretched.

A few paintings along the path to the back.

The garden, here viewed from the kitchen on an early morning . . . beautiful and typical, except when the day starts overcast (which can be typical, too).

That blue pot, a gift for Anne at Christmas, is yet to receive its own plant, but has a handsomeness just as it is, methinks.

It’s not uncommon for us to take our summertime meals at this table. On Sunday, a place for guests to take a break.

The Jacaranda, planted as a sapling years ago, was in full bloom when I took the photo, as well as the desert Palo Verde with its yellow on the left.

The ground below the tree a carpet of lavender.

The rocks have all been brought in by me, a few at time, from different excursions over the years . . . something that continues still.

Full of color, some of it shouts.

We brought the plank back from Oregon one year and converted into a table, the legs being from a Brazilian Pepper tree that had to come down (the roots were getting into our neighbor’s plumbing). The palm frond beneath could make a good fruit bowl, I keep thinking. And they keep coming.

Just an old chair that for years was in the house, now too beat up for that, but fits here.

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Here’s the info. Come if you can. But even if you can’t, remember the website sale . . . it all being part of the same thing.

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Around this time of year we’d normally be having an open house and art show . . . but all that has changed for now.

Sooooo, instead we’ll have an outdoor show, in the back yard and in the open-to-the-air garage. It’ll be this Sunday (7/12) noon until dusk. Lots and lots of art will be on display . . . including some of Anne Moore’s artwork, also at sale prices.

All welcome. Wear your face mask and come if you can. Here’s the invitation.

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ALSO, AN INTERNET SALE

As part of the outdoor show, for this week all originals on my website will be discounted 50 percent! Reference the “Hyatt Moore Gallery” for all paintings included. Click on the thumbnails for size and price. Your price will be half of that. Contact me at moore@hyattmoore.com. (If you buy something and are not completely satisfied, I’ll be happy to pay the return shipping.)

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Below are some of the landscapes featured in the sale. But all original paintings are included. Happy browsing.

Would be great to see you, or hear from you.

Another Place, Oil on Canvas Panel, 11″x14″

Evening Light, Acrylic on Canvas, 24″x60″
A singular painting for its width, great for just the right place.

Fauve Landscape 1, Oil on Canvas, 12″x16″
Painted from the imagination, one of three like this on the website.

Fence in a Field 2, Oil on Canvas, 24″x30″
One of a number of highly textured landscapes on the website.

Field of Dreams, Oil on Canvas, 16″x16″

Glistening Peace, Oil on Canvas, 24″x36″

Golden Hills, Acrylic on Canvas, 44″x44″
Large and dramatic, with emphasis on color and design. Painted from the imagination, after memory of mid-coastal California.

Green Fun Front, Oil on Canvas, 11″x14″
One of a number of classic cars on the website.

Harbor Afternoon, Oil on Canvas, 12″x16″
One of a number of harbor scenes on the website.

Hillside House 1, Acrylic on Canvas, 12″x16″
One of two rural Oregon town scenes on the website.

Sand Tree 1, Oil on Canvas, 14″x22″
One of two highly expressive Australian landscapes on the website.

Venice Afternoon, Oil on Canvas Panel, 14″x11″
The last one left from our Italy trip a couple years back.

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Casting about for subject matter for still life paintings, I came up with a couple of pitchers found around the house. Anne has a hardly noticed array perched atop the refrigerator. I photographed it. Then I decided each one was worth documenting, and even looked in other places, like rarely-used cupboards, and found more. All of these have some sort of history, not important history, but usually a memory of their being acquired. It’s never been a purposed collection, more like an accumulation, and over time a haphazard menagerie. I share it for whatever enjoyment you might also receive from it. At the bottom, I’ll share two recent paintings that included a couple of these . . . as well as two more from my first year of painting.

The assembly atop the refrigerator, hardly noticed most of the time.

An heirloom from my grandfather’s mother with her name on it. My mother got it and saved it for Anne.

Brought back from a little shop in Spain, here on one of our continually used old office chairs.

A classic shape from the 50’s, spotted by Anne in a thrift shop in Toledo, Oregon on one of our art-making retreats.

An African find, discovered on a solo excursion to Seattle, on the wharf.

Another find when Anne wasn’t along, bought in Germany, though the bottle originally from Amsterdam . . . here on our dining room table in front of a set of doors from Bali.

From Portugal, along with a whole set of dishes passed along from Anne’s mother. All never used, but too good to discard. Do you know that problem?

Another from Anne’s mother, a Spode of Gloucester, England. The candle snuffer we got in Mexico and the wall ceramic we brought back from Papua New Guinea. The granite counter, river-rock from Brazil.

(Foreground) Another from a Toledo, Oregon thrift shop (behind) from Holland, from Anne’s mother, through her sister.

Anne thinks I got this one, but I don’t remember where. I do remember finding the figurine on a trip to Cape Verde, Africa.

(Left) unknown origin, (right) from a road-side stop in Guatemala, along with two matching cups which we used, and broke, over time.

From Spain, with inscription: Sangria, Hosteria del Laurel Sevilla.

We came across this Bedouin tea pot while in Jericho, here among relics of various other trips and places.

Neither of us can remember how we have this one. I remember painting it once, when I’d just begun. Here, it’s perched on our outdoor Oregon table with rooster from Old Town, San Diego.

The label was still on this when I got it, but I don’t remember where. It’s more like an oil can, which is what I use it for, vegetable oil, for removing oil paint off hands, here in the studio clean-up area with more relics and shelves of reclaimed wood.

Finally, the one pitcher Anne does use, again, from my mother. Actually it was a gift from Anne to her, but came back to us when she died. Here, looking through out to the back patio and garden.

“Silver Pitcher and Peppers,” oil on canvas, 11’x14.” Painted last week, with no real justice given to that “Anna” pitcher, but it’s an impression.

“Pitcher, Petals, and Orange.” oil on canvas board, 11″x14.” Maybe hard to tell, but that’s a branch of bougainvillea from the back garden, competing with, or enhancing, the simplified flower designs on the Portuguese ceramic.

As a P.S., I just remembered these, two paintings from 1996, the year I started painting. I was just beginning to teach myself, still painting in a sketchbook, in oils, here working on reflections. I used that same copper pitcher shown above, then having a better shine. (As with all, click to enlarge.)

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A Facebook (and real) friend of mine invited me to be part of “A Painting a Day 10-Day Challenge.” I jumped in. (If there was anybody else doing it, I never knew.)

Each day I posted the work of that day. There was no prize; the reward was the responses, the “Likes,” “Comments,” and sometimes “Shares.” It became somewhat interactive, always good for an artist working pretty much in isolation.

And, it provided at least a general sense of of what’s most appealing among my endeavors, always a curiosity.

So, for your interest (and possibly your own comment) here is a review . . . given in order of popularity, from 1st place to 10th-place winner.

Also, see info at the bottom about the next Facebook blast, and how to know about it.

You can click on each picture to enlarge.

Day 9
130 Likes
38 Comments

Us and the Bus, oil on canvas, 12”x16.”
It’s unusual subject matter for me, and I wasn’t sure it was good; but this one, posted on the second last day, received the most acclaim.

Day 1
135 Likes
22 Comments

Alstroemerias Red, oil on masonite, 12”x16.”
Sometimes, as here, I showed close-ups, small here, but large on FB, adding to the intrigue. (See the actual flowers, top right.)

Day 6
84 Likes
10 Comments

Senegal, oil on canvas, 24”x18.”
Stages of progression were included with this one, as well as a view of the studio, which proved popular. Lots of facial color here.

Day 4
78 Likes
4 Comments

Einstein, three takes. The drawing served two purpose as my other blog, Blank Slate, featured Einstein and his imagination that day.

That blog is here. It’s a separate mailing list with some overlap. My current theme is “Wonder,” in very succinct essays. If you’d like it you can subscribe on the blog itself (and unsubscribe).

Day 10
74 Likes
7 Comments

Daylilies, oil on canvas, 16”x12,” with stages of progression.
I ended the challenge as I began it, with a floral, emotionally charged, both from what Anne had brought home, “essential,” from Trader Joe’s.

Day 3
66 Likes
3 Comments

Lonely Night, oil on panel, 8”x10.”
Romantic, moody, and very feminine. For all that, I chose to do it almost exclusively with palette knife, adding to the challenge. And the look.

Day 7
59 Likes
6 Comments

Nice Earrings, 10″x8″ and Light from Window, 9″x12,” both in oil.
Again, though faces are smooth, my self-challenge was to do them with palette knife only, in these cases, working small.

Day 5
54 Likes
14 Comments

Beached Boats, oil on panel, 11”x14.”
I did two versions of this (only one shown here), this first in palette knife, the second, less rough and lighter sky, inviting comments for preference. The result was pretty much a tie.

Day 8
51 Likes
2 Comments

Flamenco Poised, acrylic and oil on canvas, 60”x27.”
A new rendition of an earlier work of mine, selected to be included at the new “Inn at the Mission” in San Juan Capistrano, opening soon.

Day 2
35 Likes
1 Comment

Tall Guy, oil on foam core, 12”x9.5.”
There was some confusion on how this one got posted, possibly throwing off the responses. I still give it a 10th place winning, rather liking it myself.

The whole 10-day experience was fun. I challenged myself in some new ways, and hearing back from people made it all the better. Staying connected; it’s important.

I’m glad to be connected with you.

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Virtual Gallery Visits

Anne and I will be posting our art with some regularity on Facebook. Maybe we’ll call it, “Gallery Visits.” Seems fitting for the times, when people aren’t getting out much, and galleries are closed in any case. For the daily glance, friend me on Facebook here.

My Other Blog

Blank Slate is my writing blog (often also with art). It’s a separate mailing list, so if you’re not getting it, take a look, or sign up here. Either way, you’ll be welcome.

Storm be Still

For another look at the short video with the big wave, posted last time, it’s on YouTube here: Storm be Still. Always relevant.

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Hi friends. How’s life at home? Positive, I trust. I made a painting for you. I wanted a message for the moment, but also for all time.  My reference was The Great Wave, the famous woodcut by Hokusai, and the Gospel of Matthew. Check it out.

I’ve always been amazed by the story; for a review, here it is:

Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping.  The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. The men were amazed and asked, “What kind of man is this? Even the winds and the waves obey him!” (Matthew 8:23-27)

These are difficult times. Storms all around. Keep the faith.

PS Just in case anyone wants a print as reminder, they’re offered here.

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I’ve just made a new book. It’s about cars, but really it’s about photography about cars. We were in Kansas City, visiting our daughter and her family, and I spent a few hours in this “museum.” I put that in quotes as it’s more of a private collection, not open to the public, available only to groups doing fundraising events for valued causes. That’s how our daughter was involved. For me, it was a delight for the camera, and for an artist who happens to love the subject.

It’s a 12″x12″ square format, 72-page photo book. The subtitle identifies the collector. The family’s grandfather owned a Studebaker agency; now the family business is in lighting.

And lighting adds so much to this environment, bringing out color of deeply polished paint, like on this classic Studebaker.

Other than on the flaps, this introductory spread contains the only verbiage in the book, introducing the place with its two floors, upper dedicated to pre-WWII era cars (shown here) and more recent vintage on the lower level.

You really should click on each of these photos to appreciate a larger view, maybe twice. The vehicle on the right is a 1910 International Harvester truck, complete with an old gas pump behind and an old juke box.

Another panorama, plus an array of headlights and chrome.

I couldn’t get enough of the bold front-on majesty of these classics, especially as seen from a low camera angle.

The beauty of the paint is another attraction as revealed on these two Studebakers.

Every car in the collection has been completely restored to its original state with the engine in running order. That’s after they’ve sometimes been found in boxes of parts.

A replica of an auto shop workbench piled with genuine early era tools and paraphernalia. Early gas pumps are seen here in a car door’s reflected paint. (Click to see better.)

Wall-size replicas of early photos reveal the family’s early interest in racing.

The variety of hood ornaments on the early models revealed a pride of workmanship all around.

Once, the Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach featured such hood ornaments as works of art, “reenacted” with human figures. You can see here where they got the inspiration.

The interiors of these classics is another intrigue. Click on the photo to see the attention to lifestyle in the lower left, a box of picnic utensils on the running board!

Looking at cars though the windows of other cars is, in fact, how we often see the world.

In design, there are three basic shapes: the rectangle, triangle and circle. Or, three-dimensionally: the cube, the pyramid and the sphere. Here it’s the circle and the sphere of those early wheels that captivates.

A few of the cars revealed a hip customizing, like these two with chopped down cab tops.

Two framed pieces of illustration adorn the walls, wonderful in their own artistic expression.

More bold approaches, conquerors of the road.

The Bugatti was a classic then as has been ever since.

A panorama of part of the lower floor reveals more recent classics, and hood ornaments more subdued (though that of the V8 Cadillac belongs to the earlier era).

Clockwise, a 1964 Studebaker GT Hawk, an undated Mercedes with 1998 plates, a Packard Clipper from around the same era, and a 1963 Studebaker Avanti.

A car and romance, from a larger picture advertising a 1952 Studebaker. At right, a 1942 Studebaker Commander.

Viewing cars in the reflection of other cars adds its own intrigue as, here, another take of that used on the book’s cover. Right, rear view of a 1928 Packard.

The collection also featured a number of motorcycles and bikes and midget racers, here reflected in some car’s side panel. Right, a rare Vespa motor scooter with a side car.

Just a few of the motorcycles, early-era Harleys on the left and, right, a 650cc Triumph, the kind of which I used to ride. And there’s a 1951 MG TD in red, just like my loved first car, though mine was black).

Finally, just another splash of majesty of chrome and paint and engineering and design blasting across a two page spread to end the book. I’ve not shown every page here, but wanted to give an idea of the abundance of it all, and the tribute to the man-made beauty of another time.

The photographer and the i-phone 7 unseen in the right hand. (Photo by Anne Moore.)

I just made one pencil sketch record of the day, of a 1931 Studebaker Speedway.

The coffee table book on the coffee table. This is my 11th title. It’s a labor of love, book design long an interest since before my days as Art Director at Surfer Magazine when I designed every cover and every page. That, and photography, always an interest. These cost about $100 to make. I just do it for myself. But if you’d like one, contact me: moore@hyattmoore.com.

PS The last Blank Canvas blog featured a retrospective of flamenco dancers. A number of you inquired about having an original or a giclee print on canvas. You can check the blog again here, and send me an email if anything interests: moore@hyattmoore.com

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I’ve been painting flamenco dancers for almost two decades. There’s something about that subject, the action, the attitude, the verve. Sometimes I listen to the music as I paint; that energizes, too.*

It started when a gallery owner asked me if I’d ever painted flamencos. “Not till now,” I thought, and quickly produced one. It turned out the owner was a flamenco dancer! It got me going and since then I’ve probably painted 50, maybe more.

Here’s an overview of some favorites. (Click to enlarge.)

Flamenco Duo, 22×28, oil, circa 2002. This was the first one. It hung in that gallery for a time. then in another, then in a Starbucks in Orange, California, before it sold.

Flamenco Chair 2, 16×12, oil, 2003. This was one of many from a live-action photo shoot. All my photos came out blurry, what with low light (and no flash OF COURSE), and constant movement. But then, that’s how a painting should be, about the action (a verb, not a noun).

Flamenco Aida, 18×18, oil, 2008. This one is of the very person mentioned in the intro, the gallery owner. I painted the girl standing behind, too: see Flamenco Turquoise, toward the bottom of this list.

Flamenco Evening, 36×36, acrylic, 2008. As I remember, this was from the same photo shoot as Flamenco Aida above. It’s an example of how art can interpret the same thing very differently.

Flamenco Brunette, 46×27, oil, 2010. I’m calling these oil paintings but in many cases, as here, it’s oil over acrylic. That’s one of my approaches: the fast-drying acrylic, with flourishes and drips, can provide a very creative effect. And the more buttery oil goes over it nicely. (Note to painters: don’t do the reverse. Acrylic doesn’t stick to oil.)

Flamenco Textures, 48×48, acrylic, 2008. Here is a case where I was going to start with an acrylic background but in time, just stopped. Enough was said.

Flamenco Fire, 60×27, oil, undated, a nearly life-size piece that ended up in a very classy home.

Flamenco Gallery 5, 16×16, oil, undated. As you’ll note, there are many styles here. In a case like this, where even the photo doesn’t register the arms’ fast action, I leave it out of the painting, too. It’s an impression, not a blueprint.

Flamenco Gallery 10. Somehow my records tell me nothing about this one, not even the size, but I think it was about three feet wide.

Flamenco Gold, 48×24, oil, undated. I’ve painted this very pose a number of times, all different. This same dancer appears in a number of the paintings in this list.

Flamenco Left, 46×27, oil, 2011. A bold outline approach, with strong, simple strokes, and much attitude.

Flamenco Nimble, 46×28, oil, 2010. Sometimes, as here, the pre-painted background is so luscious and juicy I’m loath to paint it out. This one sold too quickly; I wanted to enjoy it myself a little longer.

Flamenco Pause, 40×30, oil, 2010. I may have first painted this in 2010 but I revisited it about twice over the years, even after it had been hanging in a gallery. The figure didn’t change that much, as I wanted to keep that thick textured paint on the dress (applied with a plastic fork when I couldn’t find my palette knife). It was the background colors that finally filled it out. It just sold last year.

Flamenco Poised, 60×27, oil, undated. This was long a favorite and hung in a gallery for some time. They sold it just before going out of business. Financial hard times for them. As I remember, I never got paid.

Flamenco Queen, 60×40, oil, 2013. Another almost life size piece, this one complete with gold leaf. Hangs in a classy home.

Flamenco Ready, 16×12, oil, undated. Small, with quick strokes and strong color. Sometimes these just come together. Sometimes not. I liked this one . . . and eventually someone else did, too.

Flamenco Sash, 48×36, oil, 2008. As I remember, I painted this over another painting. I needed the canvas for a demonstration I was doing at an art league. That background shape is something left from the earlier painting. Seemed to work pretty well, so I just left it in.

Flamenco Shadow, 24×18, oil, undated. I always liked the simplicity of this one, the shadow almost being a second figure. And, of course, there’s that wonderful flamenco posture that’s so evocative.

Flamenco Twirl, 20×16, oil, undated. Here she is again, another version of Flamenco Gallery 5 (above), a little closer in; that guitarist in the background just part of the landscape, but providing everything in real life.

Flamenco Wild, nothing recorded on this one. Fairly large, as I remember. I did it as a commission through a gallery, the owner of which delivered it to the house and said it looked great. A little too realistic, I think.

Flamenco with Guitarist, 20×40, oil, 2009. For the life of me I can’t remember why I included the guitarist in the title when he’s barely there (just behind and under the dancer’s right arm). A very loose painting, with all manner of random reflections, just like in a flamenco cave.

Flamenco Wonder, 30×23, oil, 2016. Sometimes the background paint comes right up into the foreground. Lots of palette knife work here. And the dancer never had that much hair, but why not a bit of exaggeration in these things?

Madrid, 54×41, acrylic, 2018. Some will remember this one, featured on previous blogs. It started out as a straight abstract painting, the dancer “discovered” in the process. It’s a large and strong piece and the new owner loves it.

Flamenco Motion, 24×18, oil, 2018 (available). I must say I’m enjoying looking at this one, as it hangs, framed, in my office.

Flamenco Turn, 60×35, oil, 2015 (available). Strong, large, and simple. The red and white lines a later addition, giving a touch of pizzazz.

Flamenco Turquoise, 48×24, oil, undated (available). People may not realize this one is available as it’s been hanging in Starbucks in San Juan Capistrano for years. But they don’t own it. It’s been a nice place to show art. Every now and then a person will realize, “Hey, I could buy one of these.”

Flamenco White, 46×27, oil, 2010. The delight in this one was the very thick paint in dress. Difficult to appreciate here; but I always like a painting you can run your hand over and really feel it.

Flamenco Style, 42×27, oil, 2017 (available). This is another we’re enjoying in our home, until she finds another.

Flamenco Night, 24×18, oil, 2019 (available), probably my most recent on this subject.

Warm Shoulder, 45×26, oil, 2010 (available). Just got this one back from my gallery in Palm Desert, trading it out for some new pieces. I’m liking it more and more as I’m living with it again.

Movement in Cadmium, 70×63, acrylic, 2008 (available), a very large piece. It doesn’t get shown very much as it’s too big to fit in our van. But someday it will find just the right home and everybody will be happy.

Here’s me in an undated photo (not that recent) in the midst of painting a flamenco from my head. That’s how it is sometimes.

Most of the paintings shown here have long since found homes, but some are still available, as well as others on the website. And, of course, there will be more. (God willing.)

Let me know if you’d like one. And of course I can make custom prints. (For that, go to Info on Custom Prints.)

Thanks for looking. And keep dancing.

*For a marvelous example of the music, check Estrella Morente, a personal favorite.

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I hoped we’d get snow. But that’s not why we went. Our kids, Acacia (Moore) Bergin and husband Mark needed a break. They went to Michigan for four days and we went to Chicago for five, to be with their kids. It was great, the warmth of family, and the glimpse of how Chicago can be in the winter. (Click on any of the photos for a larger view.)

The Bergins live in the West Loop area, “Ukrainian Village,” near downtown. Not on this busy street, but nearby.

Here’s their abode, with the two of us, and new snow just starting to fall.

Anne and Micah making tracks. Note Anne’s coat adorned with her own printmaking design . . . not only handsome, but very functional for the cold weather.

Out for a walk with the kids we came across this garage door, just made for photographs. Perfect, no?

I brought a project along, a commission soon to be due, and set up a “studio” in the Bergin kitchen, the kids enjoying the process of it coming together.

When the palette (in this case a saucer from the cupboard) starts looking better than the painting I wonder about it.  Often happens.

Anne at her i-Pad while the kids were at school. Note artwork on the walls from years past, one of mine on the left, a piece by Anne (framed), and three by daughter Allison . . . the photograph, the portrait and the design high on the shelf. (Click for better view.)

Also this one, “Blue Door,” a 30″x30″ acrylic on canvas that I made for them some years back. It’s of an actual entry not far from them, though I took liberties in brightening the wall color. The Bergins have it hanging prominently in their kitchen. I temporarily removed it to make my “studio.”

On one of the days, wanting to visit (again) the Art Institute of Chicago, we drove deep into the city.

We spent hours, even revisiting the car to put more money in the meter and come back. Here Anne takes a brief break, keeping up with things.

Remember the days when we weren’t allowed to take pictures in art museums?  For some, you still can’t, like when we were in the Van Gogh in Amsterdam. But for most, that’s all changed. Here’s a classic Monet, always one of the most inspiring of painters.

Regarding photographs, we even encountered one singular guard, a black woman, who enthusiastically advised us to move in very close and get details. So I did. Here’s a detail from the Monet shown above.

“Resting,” by Antonio Mancini, done around 1887, got my attention for its striking composition. Note the half-and-half division between the light side and the dark, for example. Then I took close ups.

The brush work in the face, so thick, the edges so soft, the unconcern about the nostril and the teeth and other elements . . . all things to be aware of for a painter of people.

And there’s the wonderful abandon of brush work in the still life on the painting’s right side, all just “suggested.” A great example of how to work . . . control and non-control.

Then there’s photography, in this case, mine. The snow was just starting again when we were out picking up the children from school. What better time to get a few shots with the i-phone!

It’s impressionism by camera . . . here risking the shots while driving, one hand on the wheel.

Sometimes I think I should paint like this.

One more (though I took many). There’s beauty everywhere; you can’t compete with nature.

After a night of falling snow, I rose before dawn, put on my heavy coat and ventured out for photographs. I wasn’t the first one up; at least a few were out braving the cold, heading for work or school or wherever.

A distant shot, fuzzy on the focus, but attracting my interest with all the light in the tree.

Looking down the Bergins’ street in the streaking snow.

The trees, otherwise black and bare, become a wonderland of white.

A lone walker making tracks, entering the warm glow of some distant light. Does she know she’s part of beauty, or is she just thinking, “I’m cold and I’m late . . . no time to think about the wonder of it all”?

Cold outside but a lighted window reveals another world of warmth and life and plants of another clime. Note the window reference to an allegiance within.

A coffee shop active early. Looking at the photo now, I should have stopped in and checked out that knife collection on the wall (being a collector of such myself).

Heading back to the house, still early, but not before a number of others had been trekking through.

The sun not quite up, the moon still on its way down.

The parents returned from their trip and we went to lunch . . . Acacia, Mark, me, and Anne. It’s times like this, helping when help is needed, that we see again that family is everything. We’re grateful.

One more shot, leaving the neighborhood for an early morning flight, the temperature, one degree and dropping.

Flying away, a quick shot out the porthole of the plane, a study in white on white. There’s beauty everywhere, all the time, when you see it.

Next week: Kansas City, for another daughter. We have four, and a son, all with families, all scattered.

BTW, though Valentine’s Day just passed, ours is coming up. February 17 is our anniversary. Can you believe 54 years? We can’t.

There’s no more beauty than that!

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It’s wonderful to have friends with generous hearts. As we often do, we’ve come away again for a couple of weeks of art making, this time in Indian Wells, California, in the vacation home of good friends in San Clemente.

Indian Wells is one of a string of desert communities stunning for its mountain views and the lush flora, like this, our morning view.

And the mid-morning view, looking down the street in the incredibly quiet, gated community (where very few live full time).

It’s not untypical to find a scene like this in front of a house . . . plants and stones straight from the desert, but arranged with a striking aesthetic sense.

It was inside the house that we spent the bulk of our time. Here’s Anne set up in the spacious kitchen, taking advantage of the island and counters for her materials and press (lower right).

Hand pressing at the dining room table which was also set up with San Clemente Opoly, a game we played over a few evenings. I was surprised to find the array of pictures on the wall, prints of paintings I made many years ago for our hosts, of their grandchildren and international children. It was my first venture into commissioned portraiture.

Back to the kitchen. A lot of Anne’s process involves the fine-tuning detail that goes into each piece.

Here she’s considering the ink colors and arrangement of shapes for a plate soon to be placed on fine printmaking paper and run through the press under pressure. Note my “studio” in the adjacent area, allowing for a togetherness in our mostly-introverted activities. What’s not apparent is the music we’re listening to, or the messages or interviews we tune into online, or just the periods of lovely quiet.

On both Sundays we visited local churches. The first was University Baptist (left) in a small but tastefully designed building. We were two of about 16 people in attendance. By contrast, our second experience was at Southwest Church (right) where we attended the second of three Sunday morning services, not counting two in Spanish. Another two (in English) were held the evening before. (Click for larger view.)

Speaking of Sabbaths (was I?) the jacuzzi called at least once a day. The desert sun in winter is perfect for soaking it in. For me, reading time, outdoors and indoors, was a big part of the stay.

But I got around to working too. Here’s my studio with one hombre mid-way. The two on the chairs are among those I traded out at “A Gallery” which shows my work in Palm Desert. By coincidence, that gallery was just minutes away. BTW, you’ll notice three different styles of work and approaches to painting right there. I suppose I’m schizophrenic that way. (Click to enlarge.)

Here’s yet another style, a floral done almost completely in palette knife. Makes the paint much thicker, the colors highly vibrant, and saves on having to clean brushes. (Click to enlarge this one, too.)

Here’s the result, all impressionistic. This one I left in the house as a gift. I hope they like it.

Speaking of things aesthetic being everywhere, orange trees are not rare in this part of the watered desert, including right on the property. We picked and enjoyed some for breakfast. Such health, such beauty, such flavor; we’re obviously blessed of God.

Here’s Anne’s array of finished work after just the first week. She’ll always point out that many were started earlier and that she’s just put more layers on, or printed over, or tuned in some way. She stayed with it eight to ten hours a day, completely self-contained and keeping her own council as to what’s working and what isn’t. She’s an artist that way.

One more photo, though there could be many, many, showing the stark and dry mountains juxtaposed with the flat, lush green and the spacious sky above. All beautiful.

FINALLY.

During this time I put together an Annual Report of my paintings made and contributed to mission organization in 2019. If you’re interested, it’s here:

Art for Missions Annual Report, 2019

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